one misty morning…

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One misty morning, the cloud hung low over distant hills like a soft grey blanket. The October sun infused the mist with a golden glow. I grabbed my  camera, and headed up to the woods, where the sunshine was breaking through one ray at a time: the mist lending substance to the sunbeams. The leaves, on the cusp of their autumnal colours, sparkled, and the mist drifted, dreamlike, between the trees.

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Few and far between are these days of perfect light and softly shrouding grey. By the time the mist cleared, and I trudged home to warm myself with a cup of tea, its dampness had penetrated my bones. Only the bright sunshine remained. The sunshine, and the memory of magic.

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